


you can always find me here

by allandmore99



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allandmore99/pseuds/allandmore99
Summary: Exile isn’t so bad, Booker thinks, when he wakes up to surprise visits from Andy and Quynh.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sébastien Le Livre/Quynh |Noriko
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	you can always find me here

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme fill for this prompt asking for Booker/Andy/Quynh: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4108.html?thread=1301516#cmt1301516

Booker stretched lazily in the bed, eyes still closed and brain just barely coming online, and then all of a sudden something pulled sharply at his wrist, cold metal waking him up quickly. His eyes flew open, his wrists jerked, and he locked eyes with Quynh, who was sitting smirking on the edge of his bed, the key to the handcuffs she had locked him to the headboard with dangling from her fingers.

“Hello, pet,” she greeted him, always with that edge in her voice, like she was just on the verge of being feral even though it had been seven years since she had escaped from her watery prison. “Hi, Quynh,” he replied, blinking his eyes a little sleepily and relaxing in his bonds, his cock already starting to chub up in his sleep pants as he knew what she would want.

It was a strange dynamic that they had fallen into, but he had no complaints. It had started with decades of a casual friends-with-benefits relationship with Andy, of offering himself for her pleasure whenever she was bored or horny. Then, a few months into his exile, Quynh showed up in his lonely apartment, killed him at least a dozen times, tortured him to try and get him to tell her where Andy was, and then finally quirked her head, stroking a finger down his cheek. “You make such pretty noises, sad boy,” she had told him, and he couldn’t get his mouth on her fast enough.

From those slightly dubious beginnings, the three of them had built a nice thing, quirky but one that worked for them. Booker was still technically in exile—even though they had all mostly forgiven him after a few years, they had agreed that a little time apart to heal wasn’t a bad idea for anyone—but “exile” had become a lot more flexible over the years. He lived alone, minded his own business most of the time, except sometimes one of the team would call him for backup on a mission, or just to chat. And sometimes he would wake up and Andy and Quynh would have let themselves in with the spare key he had made for them, hoping he could scratch their itch.

Quynh moved to straddle him, and he grunted as her weight settled on him. She was wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, he noted, and wondered how deeply he must have been sleeping to not hear her rifling through his closet. “Good to see you again, pumpkin,” she remarked, and he stifled a smile because she always enjoyed coming up with random pet names for him. Her nails scratched lightly down his bare chest, her fingers tweaking one nipple, and he groaned. “Can I have a kiss hello?” He asked plaintively, and she laughed, bending forward to kiss him, her hair brushing like silk over his shoulders. 

“Have you been good for me?” She whispered, turning to nip at his ear, tongue laving over the lobe, and he groaned. “Yes,” he pleaded, but she didn’t look satisfied. She scooted down his thighs, just enough that she could grab his cock through his sleep pants, rubbing hard a few times over the bulge. “Are you sure? I know you can be a slut sometimes,” she said casually, enjoying how his length jolted under her fingers at her words. “You’d do anything to get your dick wet, wouldn’t you?” She asked, squeezing his cock so hard it was just on the edge of pain, and he shook his head frantically. “Only want you and Andy,” he pleaded. “I promise, I...I haven’t been with anyone else since last time.” He was telling the truth—he had always loved sex, but somehow these two had ruined him for anyone else, and it wasn’t a great hardship to wait a month or so in between their surprise visits, taking the edge off by jerking off to memories of their last time together. 

“Hmm,” Quynh said noncommittally, but she let go of his cock so that she could pull his sleep pants down. “Andy’s taking a shower,” she explained, grinding down against him a few times, his cock nearly slipping inside her but then sliding through her slick folds instead. “Told her I would warm you up for her.” She grasped his length in her hand, lining him up and sinking down on him with a groan. “Mm, I missed that,” she remarked as she began riding him at an excruciatingly slow pace. “Andy and I have some good toys, but it’s just not the same.”

It was agony to be unable to touch her, to have to just lie there and take it, to watch her strong thighs working as she rose and fell on him, her thin frame swallowed up in his shirt. “Though humanity has gotten much more creative with their sex toys since I went in the water,” she commented casually, seemingly unaffected by how she was fucking herself on his length. “Back then, we pretty much just had some cocks that someone carved out of wood. But yours is much nicer, cupcake,” she assured him, and looked up with a smile when the door creaked open.

Andy hadn’t bothered to get dressed again after her shower, and Booker’s mouth watered as he saw her standing there nude in the doorway, little droplets of water running down her skin. “Hi boss,” he managed to choke out, as calmly as he could while he was buried balls deep inside her wife. “Hi yourself, Book,” she greeted him, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose before sitting down at the foot of the bed. 

Quynh lifted herself all the way off of Booker’s cock, earning a plaintive whine, but she only turned around, repositioning herself so that she could face Andy. “Oh yes,” he gasped out as he felt that wet heat surrounding his length again. If he missed seeing Quynh’s face, he did appreciate how in this position he could watch as she kissed Andy deeply. “Quynh,” he begged. “Please, faster,” he urged her, but she just laughed, rolling her hips slowly. “I want to take my time and savour it,” she explained. Andy was busy unbuttoning the top few buttons of the shirt Quynh was wearing, sliding her hand in to cup her wife’s breast. That earned a soft “oh,” from Quynh, who clenched around Booker as Andy rubbed her sensitive nipple. “Please keep doing that, boss,” Booker pleaded, voice strained.

Laying there watching them, he felt like nothing more than a toy. He felt like he couldn’t take credit for Quynh’s whimpers and moans; each soft sigh drawn from her lips belonged to Andy, who had worked both hands into Quynh’s shirt and was trailing her fingers down her breasts and her sides as they kissed filthily. He might be the one inside her, but it was Andy’s name that Quynh gasped out, her hands tangled in Andy’s hair as her lover kissed down her neck and nosed at her collarbone. He was just something that they were using to make love to each other, he felt, and it drove him wild with desire. 

When Andy worked a hand down between Quynh’s legs, rubbing at where she and Booker were joined, Quynh jolted, giving Booker a gorgeous view of the way her back arched, her head thrown back on pleasure, and he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he fought to hold on and not spill into her warmth. “Yes, Andy,” Quynh pleaded, grinding down desperately on Booker’s cock. “Oh fuck yes, just like that, oh fuck, going to come—“ and a moment later, Booker gritted his teeth as she fell apart around him, her inner walls massaging his length as she shuddered through her climax.

He expected her to climb off of him and for Andy to want him in the same way, but Quynh didn’t move, even as she slumped down a little bonelessly, she just stayed sitting on his cock, not moving. Andy nudged her thigh, grinning. “Do I get a turn?” She asked, and Quynh merely curled her ankles around Booker’s legs, making it clear she wasn’t budging. “Mm, he feels good like this, don’t want to move,” she protested, and Booker groaned. It had been agony enough when she was bouncing on him and he couldn’t touch her or do anything to make her go faster. Having her just sit there, warming his cock with her body but not giving him any of the friction he needed, was truly going to be the death of him. Even so, he knew better than to try and thrust up into her and chase his own pleasure. That wasn’t part of the deal and never had been—he had always offered himself to the two women completely and trusted that they would give him what he needed.

“You can have his mouth,” Quynh suggested, and Booker perked up a bit at that. It wasn’t that Andy gave him any more control over that than if she had taken Quynh’s place, he thought as she shrugged and moved up the bed to straddle his face. Sometimes she would let him show her how good he was at this, would let him sink to his knees and take her apart with skills he had carefully cultivated over the years, but he knew that that wasn’t what she was craving right then. She set her own pace, holding his head in place so that she could get him right where she wanted him. There was no time for finesse as he licked into her; he could only try and keep up with her rapid fire rhythm, try and be a good toy for her as she took what she wanted. Quynh had always been loud in bed, but Andy was nearly silent, the faint trembling of her thighs the only indication that she was close. “Oh,” she murmured softly, her fingers tugging so hard at his hair that he was amazed any of it was still on his head, and as soon as she began quivering on his tongue he groaned, long and low, and spilled into Quynh. Quynh looked over her shoulder to give him a conspiratorial wink, and his head flopped back against the pillow, exhausted as he came down from his high. 

Andy climbed off of him, sprawling out next to him on the bed and resting for a moment. “Book? What do you need?” She asked, and Quynh just chuckled. “Oh, I think you gave him everything he needed,” she teased, finally getting off of his softening length. “He came at the same time as you did, pretty much.” She lay down on the other side of him as Andy, pillowing her head on his chest. “So good for us, as usual,” she praised, lazily drawing patterns on his chest with one finger. “Fuck, I need a nap. Air travel may be convenient, but when you go from Tokyo to Paris in a few hours, it still messes you up.” She leaned up to kiss him chastely. “We brought you lots of Japanese sweets, don’t worry,” and she tossed the key to his handcuffs to Andy as she snuggled back against his chest. As soon as Andy unlocked them, he wrapped one strong arm around Quynh, holding her close, and loosely rested the other on Andy’s shoulders. She would put up with the cuddling for a few minutes, he knew, long enough that he and Quynh would doze off, and then Andy would go pad restlessly around his apartment, eagle eyes clocking the most minute changes, and then she might unpack their bags, if he was lucky and they could stay with him for a few days. Joe had started slipping little trinkets for Booker, inside jokes or stupid football mementos, into Andy and Quynh’s luggage when he knew they were going to see him, and that, more than anything else, had made him realise that he had been forgiven, that he still had a future with these people he loved so dearly. 

Andy might not put up with the cuddling for long, but she pressed a kiss to Booker’s cheek, nuzzling him a bit. “Good to see you again, Book,” she whispered. “Rest now,” and then she murmured a few words in a long-dead language, words that he never needed to ask her what they meant because the fondness shone clearly through the indecipherable syllables.


End file.
